She sat perched on the edge of the chair, her hands wrapped around the coffee. She’d asked for it more to warm her hands than to drink it, but she’d had a few sips. The caffeine was already zinging through her system, and she wondered if it would be possible to sleep.
She didn’t know.
She didn’t know if she wanted to sleep. A split second later, she decided she probably didn’t.
Off to the side, Cole stood silently, his face expressionless, his golden eyes unreadable. A lawyer. She wouldn’t have guessed it. She didn’t have the knee-jerk dislike for lawyers that Clayton obviously had, but still, she would have thought she’d be able to peg one.
It didn’t matter, though. Not to her. She’d meant it when she said it earlier and she still meant it. She was glad he was here. Glad she wouldn’t have to drive back to the shop alone, although she wasn’t so glad about spending the night alone at home.
Morosely, she stroked a hand down the silky black sleeve of her new corset and decided it hadn’t mattered what she wore. She wasn’t really going to be able to put it to good use, anyway. Not that she’d planned on doing much more than seeing if he appreciated her efforts, but still.
“Rock?”
Glancing up, she saw Clayton staring at her, his brows arched, an expectant look on his face. She sighed and lifted a hand, pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Sorry, Clayton. My mind is wandering.”
“It’s okay.” He reached out and tugged on a lock of her hair, much as he’d done when they were younger. And she reached out, swatted at his wrist, much as she’d done. It was a familiar thing, something that settled her, soothed her. “You’ve got plenty of reasons for your mind to wander. But I need you think, to focus.”
He slid a look toward Cole. The way he was sitting, it wasn’t very likely Cole would have noticed, but Rocki saw it. “I’ve got a few more questions to ask you. Would you like for me to do it privately?”
Way to be subtle, she thought tiredly. But she just shook her head. She’d already decided she’d tell Cole. Why? She wasn’t sure. But she just felt like she should. She felt like he needed to know—like she should tell him. “Just go ahead and ask.” She looked at Cole, their gazes connecting. If he didn’t feel casual about her, then he needed to be aware she came with a bit of baggage, she figured. If he couldn’t deal with that, then better she know early, right? “I plan on telling Cole later on, anyway.”
Clayton stilled.
She looked at him, saw the way his eyes narrowed, the way his mouth tightened. “Is that so? Things that serious with you two already?”
In her peripheral vision, she saw Cole push of the wall. Quietly, she said, “That’s not exactly your concern, is it, Clayton? You’re my friend. That doesn’t give you license to inquire about my personal life.” She glanced at Cole and then away. “Come on. Whatever you need to ask, get it done.”
“Shit, Rocki.” Clayton grunted and shoved a hand through his hair. “Fine.” He shoved off the desk and started to pace. “How likely is it that this is connected to...before?”
Before.
Terror hit her. Images flickered through her mind. Hands hard and cruel. A low, ugly whisper...She swallowed the bile churning its way up her throat and blinked away the dots trying to crowd in on her vision. No, damn it—you’re not controlling me like this, bastard. Not now. Not again—
Taking a deep, slow breath, she closed her eyes. She wasn’t helpless. She hadn’t been then, she wasn’t now. Closing her hands into fists, she opened them, flexed her fingers. Breathe, Rocki...breathe.
As the black dots faded away, she looked at Clayton. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s been years. Eleven years. You know that. Would he still be out there, trying to freak me out?”
“He had an obsession for you. You tell me.”
Rocki shuddered. “Hell. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Clayton nodded. “Okay. Well, he’s going to be the first person I check out.” He sighed. “Go on. Get out of here. Get some rest.” Then he added, “And damn it, be careful. Anything else happens, I want to know. Immediately.”
Chapter Six
The walk to his car was quiet. Snow came down around them in a gentle, steady fall. Already their tracks from just a short while ago were nearly covered. Rocki grimaced and kicked at the ground.
“I’m getting tired of snow.”
Cole muttered, “Me, too.” He glanced over at Rocki, felt his heart stutter at the sight of her. There were snowflakes in her hair. She had her head tipped back, and even though she was scowling, there was a smile on her lips. “You know, for somebody who claims to be tired of it, you aren’t in any rush to get out of the snow.”
Rocki sighed. “Well, maybe I’m tired of it in theory. Maybe only partially tired. But there’s something peaceful about it, too. I could use some peace right now.”
“You’re safe, you know.” He brushed her hair back from her face. He meant to push it back behind her ear. Really. But he found himself rubbing the dark, thick lock between his thumb and forefinger. Tearing his gaze from her hair, he looked into her dark eyes and said, “You can relax.”
She scowled. “I don’t think I remember how.”
“Try.” He forced himself to let go of her hair. “Come on. It’s cold. We can enjoy the peace from inside the car, too.”
Moments later, they were doing just that. As the car took to the roads, Cole glanced over at Rocki, saw that she was staring out at the falling snow, still smiling.
“I moved to Asheville from Florida when I was in high school,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye and. “Never got to see snow until then. I always used to dream about a white Christmas. Every now and then, I can actually have one. Mom used to complain about it, telling Dad they should have picked a different spot in North Carolina. She hated the snow. I don’t always mind it, I guess.”
Her smile.
Damn it, what was it about that smile of hers? It hit him like a punch, straight to his gut. It didn’t matter if it was the mischievous sort, or the pensive, thoughtful kind. Every time she smiled and her dark eyes crinkled up like that, it just got to him.
Clearing his throat, he said, “You want me to take you to your car? I’m following you home, just so you know. So I can either take you home now, or follow you home, it doesn’t matter, but...”
She reached over and laid a finger across his lips. “I’m hungry. How about you take me to get some food, instead?” She glanced around and said, “Assuming the snow hasn’t shut the city down.”
He caught her wrist. “Nah. This place doesn’t shut down that easily.” He really should take her home. She was tired—the bruised look under her eyes more than told him that. And she looked fragile, even though he knew she was anything but.
But he wasn’t about to pass up a chance to spend some more time with her.
“Although, you realize, this doesn’t count as a date. This is just getting food. You still owe me a date.”
“Typical lawyer,” Rocki sighed. But she was smiling.
“So what happened with you and Mara?”
She had a heaping bowl of Irish stew in front of her, a glass of Harp, and a fire crackling not too far away. As far as she was concerned, it was the ideal way to spend a Friday night—providing she didn’t think about earlier.
She hadn’t expected him to take her to Molly Flanagan’s, but the sight of it had made her smile. She loved this place. The Irish-style pub was packed, too, all but bursting at the seams as they made their way inside.
Cole had gone for a Guinness and a burger, and glanced at her now as she snatched a few of his fries. He scowled at her. Rocki decided then and there that they really did need to have a second date. It felt too right not to.
If everything else went okay.
“Mara...” Cole sighed. He wiped his fingers on his napkin and lifted his Guinness, but didn’t drink. Instead, he studied the half-empty glass, as though it held the answers to the universe.
“Have you ever known somebody who could go from being one thing to being something else...completely?”
Rocki lowered her gaze. Her heart bumped against her ribs. “Maybe.”
“It wasn’t a quick thing. Quick...well, that probably would have made me leave sooner, and it wouldn’t have been so hard, maybe. Might have gotten ugly at first. But...” Scowling, he studied his drink. Long moments passed before he finally shifted his gaze up to meet hers. “She didn’t used to be so miserable—I’m not talking outright mean, because she could always be a bitch when she wanted. It’s just that lately, she just wanted to be a bitch more often than not. She never used to be that way. She used to be happy. Or happier, or least. I don’t know when that started to change.”
“It makes you sad.”
“Yeah.” He sat the glass down and leaned back into his chair, turning his head to stare into the fire. They were tucked into one of the smaller alcoves and it was mostly quiet, rather private. They could hear the muffled music and the roar of other voices, but nothing distinct. “It’s not that I have regrets about ending it, because I don’t. Maybe I only regret not seeing this sooner. But I hate that somebody I used to love is so unhappy now.”
Then he shoved a hand through his hair. “Not exactly good dinner conversation, considering I plan on convincing you to go on another date, right?”
“Well, technically, this isn’t a date.” She smiled at him as she lifted her glass. “We were both hungry. So we’re eating.”
She took a drink and then set her glass down, staring at him. “I’m sorry. Regardless of whether you still love Mara or not, I can tell it bothers you. So I’m sorry.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “Even though I don’t much care for her.”
“Hell. I don’t much care for her these days,” he muttered. Then, he shot Rocki a quick look. “The woman I fell in love with...I don’t think she exists anymore. I don’t know what happened to her, but she’s not the one I’ve been living with the past few months.”
Silence fell over the table for a few minutes, broken only by the rest of those in the crowded pub. Rocki, her appetite all but dead, tried to figure out just where to start. She needed to tell him. Even if he didn’t ask, she realized. She needed to talk.
“You ever going to tell me what was going on earlier?”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze from her plate, staring at him in the dim light. That light managed to make him look even more beautiful than he already was, flickering across the planes and hollows of his face, making that gilt hair gleam like burnished gold.
“Eleven years ago, I had a stalker.” She stared at him, watching the way his lashes flickered, watching the knowledge flash through his eyes.
Slowly, he leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, thoughtful, considering, narrowed on her face. “Eleven years...that’s a long time.”
“Seems like it was just yesterday.” She sighed, leaning forward.
It wasn’t always the most demure posture in a corset. Especially if one had...assets.
To his credit, Cole’s eyes barely dipped below her neckline...at least for longer than a second. Rocki chuckled. “You know, I wore this thing wanting to look nice for you.”
“Ah...” He closed his eyes. “You succeeded. Although I’m trying to concentrate and I’m having a hard time reminding myself I’m not a twelve-year-old boy.”
She grinned at him. Then, still grinning, she eased back from the table, although she was so damned tired, all she wanted to do was rest. Against something. Or, in this case, someone. “Yesterday,” she reminded him, steering the conversation back to the unpleasant topic at hand. “It could have been yesterday. It was just postcards at first. Then the flowers started, although they weren’t so...interesting then. It wasn’t until the phone calls began that I told anybody.”
She licked her lips and looked down, absently studying her hands. She’d called somebody then. But even then...She closed her eyes. “I knew who it was.”
“You knew?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “Yes. It was an ex-boyfriend. One who didn’t want to be an ex.” Lifting a hand, she absently touched a hand to her chest. “One who would have had ten different fits if he’d seen me wearing something like this. It wasn’t just the way I dressed, though. It was everything. If I didn’t get home when I said I’d be, he got angry. If I wanted to go out for a movie with friends, he freaked—shoot, he used to follow us. Once, a girlfriend started flirting with these guys and he came rushing up…” She sighed and shook her head. “I got tired of it. I broke it off. He...”
Rocki turned her head. Shit. Why was this still so hard? She knew all of this, damn it. She knew it. She hadn’t grown up in an abusive home, and she wasn’t one of those women who’d been made to believe she was just supposed to take abuse.
“The day I broke it off, Dwayne acted like everything was fine. We’d still be friends. I packed up my things, took it all over to Lacey’s. Went to work...I worked part-time for a theater company, then—did the costumes, that sort of thing. I was working on designing some of my own stuff, but it was a private thing. Never made anything, never showed anybody.” Her hands were sweating. Damn it. He wasn’t going to do this her again. Not again. Swiping her palms down the front of her jeans, she looked back at Cole, making herself look him straight in the eye. “I was leaving work when he attacked me. He knocked me down, wrapped his hands around my neck, started screaming at me.”
She could still hear him. No fucking bitch leaves me—
“I tried to fight him, but then, I just didn’t know how. I kicked, I screamed as loud as I could. But I passed out. Somebody from the theater heard me, though. Called the cops. There was a beat cop close by, and thank God for that...because if they’d been a minute or two later...”
Rocki shuddered.
A hand touched her shoulder. Tensing, she looked up and realized Cole had left his seat at the booth and was now crouched by hers. She scooted over on the bench, disturbed by how desperately she needed that contact. As he settled down next to her, she rested her head against him. A strong arm came around her. Rocki groaned, sinking into the warmth of his embrace. She’d missed this...just having somebody there to hold her. Somebody she could trust. Somebody she liked and had a connection with.
And God help her...she had it with Cole.
“The cops showed up while he was still trying to get my clothes off,” she said, needing to get the words out. “He took off running when he heard the sirens, and I woke up with my shirt ripped open, my jeans unzipped. I hadn’t been awake, but I swear, I could feel his hands all over me.”
She swallowed and then looked up at him. Cole lifted a hand, brushed her hair back from her face, then stroked his thumb over her lip. “Then what? You knew who it was, right?”
“Yeah.” She looked away. “But I wouldn’t press charges. Not then. The notes started coming next. Then the flowers. Then he started calling and I knew I had to do something, or he might try to kill me next time. I warned him that I’d press charges if he kept it up. He just laughed, said I hadn’t done it before, I wouldn’t this time.”
“So did you?”
“I went to the police station. Filled out the report, did everything I was supposed to...and the officer in charge was an ass. Told me they couldn’t promise they’d get results. I’d need to be careful of my whereabouts. And maybe I should dress differently.” She made a face. “I had on a fucking T-shirt and jeans. Damn, I was furious. I stormed out of there, so mad I could barely see...and crashed right into Brant.”
“Brant. Your husband.”
“Yeah. Although, not then.” Absently, she plucked at a loose thread on his sweater, then let her hand fall to his thigh. When the muscles under her hand bunched, she felt a blush settle low her breasts. But she didn’t move her hand. “Brant...ah, well, he was a gentleman, through and through. Saw that I was upset. Asked around. Had another officer take the report again. Then he walked me to my car.”
&n
bsp; “But that wasn’t it.”
“No.” She smiled. “A few days later he showed up at the theater and asked me how I felt about dating cops, mentioned he’d almost taken my case himself but that wouldn’t have been right...because he had every intention of asking me out. We were married within six months.”
“One of those love-at-first-sight stories.”
“Pretty close.” She lowered her gaze, staring at her hand. The muscles under it were still tense. She really should move. But she couldn’t. Just couldn’t.
“What happened with the ex?”
“I chickened out. Couldn’t press charges. A few more cards came. Two more calls. Then they stopped.” She closed her eyes. “I won’t ever know, but I suspect Brant paid him a visit...scared the shit out of him. Dwayne never was good at standing up to anybody who proved they could dish it back.”
“Possible ethical issue there.” His hand rested low on her spine.
She shivered as his fingers grazed the scant bit of flesh left bare on her back by the corset.
“Abuse of power...hell, I might have bought him a drink.” Cole rubbed his cheek against her hair. “You should have pressed charges, though. Bastards like that never stop until you make them.”
“I know. Now, I could. Then, it was a different story.” She sighed. “It may or may not be him now. I just don’t know. The cards started a few weeks ago. I’ve gotten four—they aren’t the same. It’s just pictures of me, no notes or anything. The flowers today...that was a first.”
“If it is him...?”
“If it is, if it isn’t, no matter...once they have a name, anything I can go to court with, I’ll press charges.” She stared down, not seeing anything. “I won’t be that victim again. Not again.”
He nuzzled her temple. “I’m sorry. Nobody’s got the right to do this to another person.”
Virgin's Night Out Page 20
